


Button-up Baby

by BugTongue



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, assholes in love, assholes with no actual sense of propriety, business attire as a plot point, business attire as a possible kink, unethical boyfriend teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8495623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugTongue/pseuds/BugTongue
Summary: "what if the only reason Newton owns any button-up shirts is because Hermann bought them for him as a passive aggressive birthday present?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> I owe this to all the people egging me on at all hours of the day.

Newt yanked at the cuffs of his new shirt with the patience of an enraged child, I.E. None, I.E. Fuck Hermann and his sensibilities. He grabbed the sides of the sink to lean in and glower at his reflection, stubble stubbornly poking through the skin to leave a grey hue around his mouth.  
  
"Oh Newton," He mocked his partner's voice scathingly. "You simply must retire those ratty old t-shirts, it is SO unprofessional of you. Oh Newton you embarrass me. Oh Neeeoootunnn do shave too." He knocked his razor to the cement floor with a clatter and stormed out of the bathroom.  
  
He tugged at his cuffs again and groaned.  
  
This was entirely doable, he just had to focus. Just focus, just PROVE he can be neat and tidy and all the merits that got him a teaching position. Except none of those things got him tenure but what the fuck ever, like Hermann cared. Hermann didn't give a rat's ass about what Newt had actually done as a successful mastermind in the sciences, soon as they met up that first time he had condemned the biologist as nothing more than his visible punk regalia.  
  
Perhaps Newt was being unfair. This wouldn't be the first nor the last time he'd been insulted over genuine actions, but he knew for a fact Hermann was a passive aggressive bully who liked to make his life hard so sue him for jumping the gun. He breathed out through his nose and stalked off to the lab to hopefully figure out just what was up with those samples. He was sure they were exactly the same, but so much as mentioning it to Hermann or the last remaining go-for lackey got him raised eyebrows and a migraine.  
  
"Lookin' sharp Dr. Geiszler."  
  
"Tendo! Man, no, don't do this to me okay this is torture of the aesthetic kind. What I look like right now is a pencil pushing geek who stepped off the office bus to loserville. Loserville is what I'm renaming K-Sci until Hermann finally fires himself and leaves me in peace."  
  
Tendo gave him a lazy look of pity, lifting his three mugs of coffee in salute. "Try to give a brother a compliment and he shoves it in not only my face, but the face of those not here to defend themselves."  
  
"He's not dead, dude, chill." Newt clapped the LOCCENT officer on the shoulder instead of hugging him (god forbid he made tendo drop one of those fragile mugs), and renewed his transit.  
  
He entered the lab and washed his arms up to the elbow before donning delightfully chartreuse gloves he had to order online with his own money. The best part was unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the stiff sleeves up to his biceps, freeing just that much more of himself from the confines of Hermann's iron will. Hermann, who looked up as he entered and was now pretending to ignore him. He made a face at the man’s back before getting to work.

Seven hours of Pantera’s discography (on a loop!) later, and merely turning it off got Hermann’s rapt and irate attention. His station was all wiped down and he had some very intriguing notes to shove in the Marshal’s face later, but for now he was going to get his revenge for spite-wearing starched cotton all day.

“Oh hey Hermes-”  
  
“Dr. Gottlieb-”

“Hermann, yeah so, what’s the point of me wearing this again? Because last time I checked no one in this decrepit ‘Dome cares what we wear as long as we do our jobs.” He leaned his hip against Hermann’s desk as he rolled the sleeves back down.

“I care. I think it makes us both and our entire department look like one big joke.” Hermann set his chalk down with an awkward jerk of his arm and grabbed his cane to come stand before Newt, who tilted his head to the side.

“Aw you care? I think you actually did this because you have a kink for business attire. I think you’ve been looking over your shoulder all day to see me wearing this.” His grin slid into a grimace as Hermann fixed his collar, fastening the top button that he’d left undone for comfort. It was restricting in a way that gave him flashbacks to when he’d really gone all out on the punk thing.

“I think that you look somewhat your age, Newton. I think this is a good thing, and I think it looks good on you. Is that sufficient?” His thumb pushed through the sharp scruff of his jaw and Newt hoped his layer of dirt and freckles did anything to cover the way his ears felt suddenly warmer than before. “However, this is just slovenly.”  
  
“It’s a beard dude, it’s manly.”  
  
“You are the last person I would expect to aim for manly.”  
  
“I’m, alright point. But it’s not unprofessional to have a beard.”  
  
“You are thirty four years old and half of this is grey.” Newt slapped his hand away and shimmied up onto the desk, hooking an ankle behind Hermann’s good knee.

“Like any roguish heartthrob of course.” That got him a tight smile but Hermann did move closer. “You like the grey, makes me look my age right?”

The lab assistant glanced up from where she was plugging numbers from the chalkboard into the computer simulator, looking more tired than Newt felt. “You can clock out, Tasha.” She seemed to slide out of view faster than humanly possible, and the moment he heard the door close his face was being turned towards Hermann again. “I still say you have a kink for business attire, that’s why you get so flustered every time Marshal Pentecost comes in here-”

“Oh hush you.”

The kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth seemed off target until another landed on his cheek, then his temple. The heat from his ears filled out the rest of his face as teeth met his earlobe. “That is not fair dude, and you know it. You can’t yell at me one day for kissing you in the lab then pull something like this, it’s unethical.”

“That’s part of the allure, of course.” The shitty smirk was audible even as it was muffled against the sliver of skin above Newt’s collar. A tongue pushed under the fabric and Newt let his head fall back, linking his leg more securely around Hermann’s with a huff.

“Allure, really? Your dirty talk is awful.” He sucked in a breath when he felt the bite to his digastric. “Come on why did you button my shirt up if you were going to do this?”

“Hm, a good point Newton.” Hermann’s hand pressed to his stomach and slid up the line of buttons to the collar juncture just over his windpipe. “Mostly because that’s all we’ll be doing in a semi-public environment, partially because you’ve been an ass this entire week, and entirely because you will be getting _none_ until I think you are properly sorry.”

Newt bit his lip and pushed hermann away by a hand to the face. “I’m only an ass because you are completely insufferable, I don’t feel like I should be held responsible for every reaction I have to your actions. That’s like, even more inhuman than usual, and we’re both pretty bad at human-ing.”

“That isn’t even a word.” He smiled as Hermann pressed a terribly chaste kiss to his mouth.

“I am a doctor, I can make up words if I want. New question, how about i say sorry and you spend the night with me?” Hermann pulled away to lean his weight on the cane, considering.

“Only if you make it sound sincere, lord knows it won’t be convincing if you don’t believe what you’re saying.”

Newt’s smile quirked as he considered his options.


End file.
